Alchemy and Gingerbread

Tomes, scrolls and scraps of parchment rested strewn over a table.  Each bit of paper obviously reviewed time and time again slowly gaining Dorito dust and on the edges.  They had survived centuries of neglect, dust and elements, but they had met their match in junk food.

“The answer is here!” Abe said.  He felt it an appropriate statement, like one that would have been said in a movie by any scientist working toward a hard to achieve goal.  He sat in a small, darkened room with a flickering light above his head.  Bags of chips and broken pencils filled the areas not covered by burners, beakers and ancient texts.

“Alchemy should not be this hard in the 21st century,” Abe sighed.  He realized the statement was dumb as he said it and was quite grateful his partners had left for the night.

Head on the lab table, he waited for some great insight to come to him.  Some idea that no one in the history of alchemical research had tried before.

He raised his head to search for inspiration.

“Huh,” he said as an idea struck.  “December…holidays…solstice…winter coats…” He had no idea why he thought outloud, but the boozy egg nog in his system was playing a role.

“I have it!”  Abe moved away from the desk and went to the lab’s cafeteria.  A few minutes later he returned, excited to try his new plan.

“This just might work.  All the work of the original alchemists, all the work that followed; everything the whole of history has worked toward is about to be solved by me and…” he raised his new chemical to the sky in dramatic fashion, “gingerbread!”

He wished for a lightning strike or a formidable maniacal laugh to fill the moment, but he his maniacal laugh was best described as, well, laughable.

He began to twist knobs and light burners.  Fluids flowed from one beaker to another, gaining new properties as they mixed with one another ever so slowly.  As the chemical he created reached the final pot, he added the gingerbread.

A plume of green smoke filled the room following a deafening explosion.

Abe sat, stunned, and waited for the smoke to clear, but it only seemed to grow thicker and thicker with each passing moment.

As he sat, a red glow began to cut through the smoke, letting the lab table come into view.

“Hey, hey, wait a minute,” Abe said, beginning to worry about the source of the red glow.  “Oh come on! Gingerbread should not have done that!”

Abe put a hand over his nose and the red glow disappeared.  Removing the hand, the glow reappeared.

“I’m not an alchemist.  I’m a mistreated reindeer!”

 

 

Thanks for reading!

If you’re looking for a quick read over the weekend, check out my free books at Barnes and Noble.

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